


The Weight of Change

by YourLocalPriestess



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Reaper War, get ready to suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLocalPriestess/pseuds/YourLocalPriestess
Summary: Years after the Reaper War, Kaidan Alenko gets a migraine to end all migraines. And now he has to face it alone.





	The Weight of Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potionsmaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Potions! You asked for angst.... ;)
> 
> Also, I FORGOT TO CREDIT my darling @joufancyhuh for the biotic headache relief idea. But she deserves all the credit because it was what made this fic possible <3

Most of the time, Kaidan could pretend everything was okay. Most of the time, grief burrowed into his marrow instead of his daily thoughts. Those were the good days.

See, Kaidan had long since stopped trying to shed his grief. He’d realized after the first few years of waking up alone in their bed, in their apartment, that grief wasn’t something that let you rest. Grief was something that embedded itself into your DNA until it became the second skin you never wanted. A second skin that settled over everything you did like a weight, and as with any weight, he’d learned to carry it.

But not today.

Today, Kaidan had a migraine. Most of the time he's able to just…deal with them. He takes the medicine Chakwas prescribes, he draws the blinds, he stays in bed; the whole shebang. If he’s honest, mostly with himself, sometimes those days are okay, because at least he’s alone. At least he’s not pretending. He can _stop_.

But not today. Today is a rarity, because today his biotics are flaring in his vision at the slightest movement, at the slightest change in light or sound, and sending searing shots of pain ricocheting through his skull with every fire of his neurons. The pain is encapsulating and heavy and makes it hard to breathe, to calm his heart-rate, to make his blood stop fucking pounding in his ears; the staccato bursts of life only making it harder to see, to _think_.

His hands shake as the coffee cup falls from them into the sink. Godammit, he hasn’t even gotten _dressed_ yet. He palms one of his temples in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. It had been years since it was this bad. The last one was – it was –

 

_“Hey, Kaidan.”_

_There wasn’t anything especially loud about Levi’s greeting, but it pissed Kaidan off none the less. He rolled over in their bed, covering his face and ears with his pillow, saying nothing. But even the blessed darkness couldn’t stop the pounding in his skull, the biotic shots of white hot pain that spilled out of his L2 and undulated in his thoughts._

_He felt a pressure on the bed, and then the gentle touch of Levi’s fingers at his chin, the only part of his face that was visible._

_“What’s wrong?” His voice was almost as soft as his touch._

_“Headache.” He winced as the sound of his own voice vibrating in his throat sent new waves of pain into his skull._

_“Have you gone to Chakwas?” He could hear the frown in his voice._

_“No,” he sighed, attempting to shuffle deeper in the darkness of pillows, but Levi’s fingers held him firm even in their gentility. He sighed again, giving up on moving away. “Nothing she can do about these.”_

_Levi ran his thumb along the stubble of his jaw, back and forth. Were it not for the pain, that touch alone would be enough to draw him out, to make him shiver and lift his mood entirely. But not even his lover was worth the risk of the further agitation via more sound and light._

_“Hang on.” The pressure on the bed lifted and he heard him go up the steps, shuffle around his desk, the tank, the bathroom, until he finally made his way back to his side again. Now his hands covered Kaidan’s, attempting to pull them off of the pillow._

_He gripped his shield tighter. “Stop it!” He meant to sound angry, but it came out laced with pain._

_“Trust me.”_

_Levi didn’t move his hands or try to force anything upon him, and Kaidan was content to just stay like that – Levi’s hands on his and a pillow blocking out the rest. Just fine by him. Then Levi’s thumbs traced soothing circles on the top of his tensed fingers, and he knew he was done for._

_He sighed and relaxed his grip. “Alright.”_

_Levi lifted the pillow away and Kaidan clenched his eyes shut. Cool air hit his face with the exposure, more of a relief than he expected it would be, and his head still keeping a steady, pulsing ache in the background._

_“Open your eyes.”_

_Kaidan pinched his nose and bit back his clipped remark. He took a deep breath and opened them. To find darkness. Not even the fish tank was lit in the familiar cerulean blue. In fact, there was no light in the cabin at all. Even the dormant orange glow of the computer was blacked out. He frowned and reached out for his lover._

_“Better?” He heard rather than saw his smile._

_“Much.” He blew out a puff of air and relaxed a little further, giving Levi’s hand a little squeeze when he found it. “Thank you.”_

_“Of course.” Levi’s hand was suddenly in his hair, running it gently backward. Kaidan winced as the light tug sent miniature spikes of pain through him. Levi must have felt it, because he lifted his fingers immediately._

_In the darkness, a strange tension grew between them. Kaidan knew Levi was only trying to help, and he really wasn’t doing a terrible job of it, but Kaidan didn’t know how to help him know what to do. Mostly because_ he _didn’t know what to do, but more to the point, he didn’t want to worry about it with his head incessantly pounding away at him with every thought._

_“Can I try something?”_

_Kaidan huffed through his nose and let his arms relax at his side, trying not to let his frown infect his voice. “Sure.”_

_Then Levi leaned over him, leaving them chest to chest, and placed his index fingers to his temple; soft to the touch, but undeniably present. In the next moment, Kaidan felt a cold pulse shoot through them. He jumped slightly, but Levi held him in place with the weight of his torso. The pulse came again, longer and steadier where the first had been almost tentative, and Kaidan stopped his fidgeting. Levi was keeping up the biotic pulse at a constant now, and the relief washed over his skull in a slow wave, stopping his own misfiring biotic flares in their tracks._

_When Levi stopped the pain wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t an unbearable, constant presence anymore. It was a headache, sure, but one Kaidan was more than grateful to have._

_He relaxed further onto his pillow and smiled in the direction he assumed his lover was. “What are you, some kind of space witch doctor?”_

_Levi’s laugh filled the space and made Kaidan’s heart race. “Scoot over.” Kaidan complied and Levi laid down next to him and maneuvered them both so that Kaidan’s head rested on his chest. Levi pressed a kiss to the top of his head and started carding his fingers lazily through his hair._

_“Seriously though,” he murmured, sleepiness dripping into his voice. “How did you know to do that?”_

_“I’ve been asking around after different doctors when we stop. Most of them say the same old stuff about the L2’s, but one said she’d done that to help one of her patients on a whim and it happened to work. I figured it was worth a shot.”_

_Kaidan leaned up and kissed him. He felt Levi’s smile through it, their stubble scratching against each other as their lips pushed and pulled in synchrony._

_When he pulled back, Levi chuckled once and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “I love you.”_

_“I love you too.”_

 

His hand on the counter slips as the weight of it crushes him. Not just the weight of spitfire biotic energy wreaking havoc on his every sense, his every thought, but the weight of nothing. The weight of loss. The weight of alone.

The floor of their apartment is fucking cold – _my apartment, not ours, not anymore_ – and it’s almost a comfort. It almost helps. But it’s not the same as gentle fingers at his temple, working against his skin gingerly until the pain recedes. It’s not the same as rough stubble chafing against his own. It’s not the same as promises shared in the dead of night, at the darkest hour.

He can’t breathe. Everything hurts and aches and tugs at the deepest wounds that never really heal. He curls into a ball on the cold tile floor, teeth gritted and eyes clenched shut. _No one’s here, no one’s coming_. The shocks and stabs of pain travel the full length of his spine. He turns his head and retches out what little remains in his stomach. He rolls away from the mess, unable to bring himself to rise. He’s crying, but at this point he doesn’t know what for. It doesn’t really matter. _He’s not here. He’s not coming_.

Nothing’s the fucking same.


End file.
